An Alternate Beginning
by toothlessdaydream249
Summary: How Simon Snow and Baz Grimm-Pitch might’ve got together in an alternate universe. Lots of Snowbaz and lots of kissing...
1. Chapter 1

Baz

"I hate you, Baz!" Snow yells, lobbing his alarm clock at my head. I duck, which only angers him even further.

"For Crowley's sake, Snow! Stop it!" I yell back.

"No!" He's practically screaming now. "You've ruined my life! You're always trying to kill me! You're always plotting against me!"

"Oh, shut _up_!" This is starting to irritate me now.

"No! You shut up! You are a disgrace to the whole of the whole of the magickal world! You are a horrible, selfish, horrible person."

He throws all of his clothes at me, and I dodge them. This is pathetic, but all I can think is how _turned on_ all this is making me.

He's still screaming at me, asking "What have I ever done to you?"

I don't answer. I don't say a word.

He runs out of clothes to throw and storms across the room towards me, jumping on and off the bed like a bloody maniac.

Then he grabs the collar of my shirt and pulls me close to him. Crowley.

"I hate you!" He spits in my face. I don't even flinch. I don't even pull away. (I would never. I'm loving this too much.)

And then he's so close to me that my stupid emotions take over, and all control I used to have of my hands somehow vanishes, and they are on his face, delicately holding his reddened cheeks, which are hot with anger. I pull him close to me and he sort of stumbles into me, deliberately or not, I don't know. And his lips are on mine. His lips are on mine.

I'm kissing him.

As soon as it happens I think What the hell am I doing!? And I know it's wrong, so wrong, but it doesn't feel wrong. It feels right. It feels _so_ right…

He should be pulling away. I tell myself. Any second now he's going to pull away and run or scream or punch me or something.

But he doesn't. He stays.

His grip on my collar has loosened, and his palms are pushing into my shoulders, fingers brushing my neck.

His lips move, slowly, cautiously, like I might bite him or something. (I would never bite him. Ever.) He opens his mouth and kisses me harder and my chest is exploding with electricity and my whole body is burning with surprise and delight and the best feeling of anything I've ever felt before.

I tilt my head the other way, kiss him back, harder, as hard as he wants me too. His hands stretch further around my neck, and I suddenly _realise_ and I suddenly open my eyes that I hadn't known I'd closed, and it's like running out of breath underwater and then surfacing back into reality.

It takes the effort of all the atoms in my body to pull away from Snow and shove him as hard as I can away from me.

"I hate you too, Simon."

He looks at me, startled, blue eyes open wide. Stuttering, and yet panting for air. (I feel very much out of breath myself, but I try to hide it.) "You called me Simon." He says.


	2. Chapter 2

Simon

"Umm." My legs shake as I sit down. "Agatha?" I ask. I swallow.

"Yeah?" She says, not really seeming to care about what I'm going to tell her. She's lying on the grass, elbows propping her up, wind blowing her hair back.

"Well…"

I must sound suspicious already, because she finally looks up at me and says "Oh, Simon… What did you do?"

"Nothing! I just… um…" I pause. I don't know how to tell her. I rehearsed it in my head, but all of those words seem to have melted away. "Okay, Agatha, listen. I'm really really sorry, okay? I mean… it was just one kiss…"

"Kiss?" Her voice is immediately five pitches higher. "What? Who? Who did you kiss?"

"No one! I just –"

"Simon!" Her eyebrows are set so low on her face, and her cheeks are bright red. Other students turn and stare at her yelling. I look around, regretting the decision to tell her.

"I'm sorry." I say, my eyes trained on the floor.

"You don't sound sorry!"

I open my mouth to protest but I find myself stopping. What was I to say to that? Was I sorry? Because surely I couldn't lie?

"Answer the question, Simon. Who? Who was it?"

"Umm…" I don't want to tell her. She'll think I'm making it up; she'll think I'm crazy. She'll never trust me again. I just want to run away, run back to my room. The room I share with Baz. My stomach tingles when I remember the feeling of his lips on mine.

"Oh my…" Agatha stares dead into my eyes. I feel as if her vision can burn through my skull and into my mind. Does she know? Does she know it was Baz? Can she tell from the expression on my face? "It wasn't Penelope, was it?" Her voice is so full of livid rage that the words cut through my skin and tear me apart.

"No!" I say, so quickly and suddenly that it almost sounds as if it was Penelope. "I swear! It wasn't!"

Agatha nods, believing me, although her expression is still fiery. "Alright. Who then?"

I pause, hesitating.

"Please, Simon." Her voice has turned from rage to disappointment. "You need to tell me, Simon. You need to tell me everything. Otherwise, I don't know if I can trust you. Please."

"Okay…" I say hesitantly. There's a silence, broken only by the wind and the distant shouts from the football pitch. Is Baz playing football right now? I think.

Agatha speaks, obviously thinking that my silence is me stalling. "So…" She says. "Who was it?" She counts the questions on her fingers. "When was it? Do you still see her everyday? What was the kiss like? Have you only does it once are you cheating on me? Oh…" She looks up from the grass. Tears fill her eyes. "Simon…? Are you… are you breaking up with me?"

"No! No, of course not. I just kissed someone, that's all. All you need to do is forgive me and then things will just go back to… normal." Would things go back to normal? The kiss was only a few days ago, but I've felt like a whole new person since then.

Agatha sighs and her body deflates a little in relief. "Okay." She breathes. "They can't, though, Simon. Not if you don't answer those questions."

"Okay." I say again. "Well… it happened a couple of days ago –"

"A couple of days!" Agatha screeches. "You mean I've been talking to you for two days and you haven't said anything!?

"I'm sorry, Agatha. I just… I didn't know what to say."

"Who was it, Simon!? Who did you kiss!?" She's gone back to being livid.

I shuffle my feet in the grass. "I didn't kiss him– her. I mean… him. I didn't kiss him. He kissed me." I don't look up, but I can practically hear Agatha's eyes widening. "It was… quite… sort of…" I sigh. "He kissed me, because I was yelling at him."

"What!?"

"But I don't know why. I mean, I didn't pull away, but I was just so surprised."

"What!?"

"And I might have… sort of… maybe opened my mouth and… maybe there was tongue but… but it was all a blur really. I don't know. But it was just a kiss. Agatha. It was just a kiss."

I look up. And I instantly regret it.

I can barely describe her face. It's completely purple; the whites of her eyes stand out against her skin. Her eyebrows reach far up her forehead and her mouth hangs wide open. All she can do is stutter.

She finally manages to speak. "You French kissed a boy!!" She screeches. Each word is spat out like it's poison. Tears start to stream fast down her face.

"I… I'm… sorry…" The look on her face makes my eyes sting with water. "It wasn't French. Not all tongue-kissing is French." I correct her.

She continues to sputter and gasp. "Who was 'he'?" She manages to get out.

"Umm…"

"And why were you yelling at hi –" The 'him' ends in a whimper. "Oh. My. God." I've never heard Agatha swear like a Normal before. "It was Baz."

She says each word so clearly and concisely that everyone on this field can hear. My throat has closed up. My stomach has sunk so low it's down at the floor. My tears break free and run down my cheeks. All I can do is nod.

"Simon. Simon!" She starts to back away. "I knew it." She says. Quietly. Quietly so I can barely hear her. "I knew it. You're obsessed with him. You think he hates you, but he doesn't. He likes you. He stares at you. All the time. He likes you Simon, oh God, this explains so much!" She lets out a forced laugh, but it makes me wince. "Why did you hide this from me? Why are you so scared to tell me? I trusted you! And," she points at me, "you like him back. You like him back. He kissed you, and you liked it, Simon I can tell. I can tell! You didn't pull away! Simon! You're gay!" Her voice slowly raises volume at each syllable. She shakes her head. "No. Simon. No. No! I don't…" Her voice falters. "I… I don't want to go out with you anymore. We're done, Simon. I'm done."

And she turns around and walks away.

I don't know whether to feel sad or relieved. I am sad, I realise, but only because I feel sorry for Agatha. I watch her walk away, feeling guilty. And yet, I feel like I did the right thing.

She was right. She was right about everything. Everything she said. I like Baz. I liked the kiss. I don't know why. But I liked it.

And I kissed him back.


	3. Chapter 3

Baz

It's been a week since the kiss. And in the seven days inbetween, I've done nothing but think about it. Nothing else has happened, either. The nights (well, for me, at least) have been sleepless; watching Snow sleep, which, to be honest, was normal anyway. But just watching him lie there snoring like nothing ever happened makes me doubt whether it was real or not.

He definitely kissed me back. I know that. I've never kissed anyone before, but I know for a fact that if Snow didn't like it then he would have pulled away. But he didn't. And he's been ignoring me for the whole week, and I can't seem to figure out whether he likes me or not. Or whether he liked the kiss. Or whether it was even meant to happen.

Seeing him blank me every time he walks past me – in the corridor, in our classrooms, in our bedroom. It just feels like my heart is being scraped out, like ice cream, scoop by painful scoop.

Anyway, without a doubt, the kiss was the best thing, the best feeling I've ever had in my whole life. Ever. But the pain I'm feeling now – afterwards – compared to before, just makes me ask myself: was it really worth it?

I can still feel the tingling memory of his lips on mine, the taste of his mouth every time I close my eyes. And so now, when I'm sitting, eyes closed, on the grass behind the football pitch after an afternoon match, and Snow walks up to me, and I don't realise until he's a few feet away and he coughs to get my attention, I almost jump out of my skin.

I open my eyes. "What do you want?" I spit at him.

"Baz." He says. His voice is clear and confident. Panic rises in my throat. I am suddenly aware of the sweat on my football shirt and my forehead. Aware that I probably don't smell all that pleasant, that parts of my hair is probably stuck to my face. I try to brush it away, but that only makes it worse.

"Baz." He repeats. I swallow. "We need to talk about the –" he stops. His voice falters. "The kiss."

My lips are dry. My throat has closed up. My stomach flips over and over and over. I inhale, wishing I was back in our room to that moment last week. That moment when I lost all control…

Simon takes my silence as his cue to continue.

"I… I have questions, Baz… And… I'm sure you have questions as well? Just… I need you to explain… why you did it… and… I mean…" He gives out a deflated laugh. "I mean you're not in love with me or anything, are you?" Colour rises to my face. "'Cause that would explain a lot." His smile falters. "I just need to know what you were thinking. Okay?"

I scowl at him, trying to hide my panicked embarrassment. "No, of course I'm not in love with you, Snow! I only bloody kissed you to make you shut up."

"But you didn't pull away, Baz. You didn't pull away for a long time."

"Yeah? Well, why did you kiss me back?" I sneer.

Snow stutters. "I…"

I raise my eyebrow. "Exactly, Snow. Exactly."

"Yeah? Well? Why did you let me kiss you back?" He steps forward, looking down at me. I stand up, hating how dominant he's acting.

"Just shut up, Snow! Your probably in love with me, aren't you?" (Oh, how I wish that's true. What if it is true? Hope swells in my chest.) "What about your girlfriend? I bet you haven't told her that you've made out with a –" I'm about to say 'vampire', but I catch myself.

"A what?" He snarls at me. His face is so close again and I get a moment of déjà vu where I feel my heart pull towards him, and a sudden slip out of control. But I break it. I fight it back. I'm not kissing him here, now, in front of half the school. "A vampire?" He says, spitting in my face.

"I'm not a vampire!" I yell, feeling the silver cross on his chest sting a little when he steps closer.

"Yes you are, Baz, and I know it!" He screams.

"Wellbelove's going to dump you when she finds out what you did! That you've been lying to her for a week!"

Snow growls, a rumble deep in his throat. "Shut. Up. About. Agatha." He says, and I can see he's truly angry.

"Or has she dumped you already?" I sneer. "Because you're in love with –"

I don't finish the sentence.

I don't finish it because Snow has his hands on my collar, and for a moment I think he's going to strangle me, and I see something flash in his eyes – rage, I think.

But he doesn't. Instead, he kisses me.

Kisses me like he did before, seven days ago, in our room. His warm lips on mine make me realise how cold I am, and how hot he is.

I yank myself away, gasping. I'm about to say something, or yell or swear or something, but I just look around at all the people across the football pitch. No one has seemed to notice. I breathe out a sigh. Snow looks at me, wide-eyed. I scowl at him, and grab his wrist, dragging him behind me as I storm towards the bridge that leads back into the school.


	4. Chapter 4

Simon

Baz pulls me away from the football pitch, past the front gates and towards the nearest building. I want to ask what he's doing, but at the same time I'm scared he'll climb onto a roof and fling me off.

And I can't stop thinking about how much I love kissing him. And what I did just now wasn't at all voluntary; it was like I couldn't control what my hands and my face and my body were doing.

We get to a building of mostly classrooms and he pulls me through the double doors. It's instantly warm inside and my cheeks tingle with heat. He marches up the staircase and stops outside a thick wooden door.

It's not the door to a classroom, I realise, when he opens it. It's a broom cupboard. Full of buckets and brooms and cloths and dust. It's dark inside.

I inhale, preparing to scream for when he shoves me inside and locks the door. But I stop. He steps in after me.

Baz jams the door shut, and the only light I can see is through the slit at the bottom of the door. And then he turns to me, stepping forward and ducking his head very slightly to match my height. And, slowly, he puts his cold hands on my neck and presses his forehead against mine.

"I don't know what's up with you, Snow…" He breathes. "I like it, though." And I swallow. And he's practically speaking into my mouth, which is hung open, waiting, wanting. "I like it."

———

Baz and I kissed for… I don't even know how long. In that cupboard, without being seen, without being heard (I hope). I'll never be able to set eyes on that door again without smiling and feeling my stomach flip.

The kiss (I don't even think that's a suitable word for it. It wasn't kissing, really. It was more full-on making-out more than anything.) was different to the one in our room. The first one was angry and it felt a little forced, like I was trying to kiss him violently. It was unexpected, and I was red and angry and sweaty and yelling at him at the top of my lungs. This one was different. So, so much different. It seemed slow and romantic (Is that the right word? Does thinking it was romantic make me gay?) and there was his tongue and his taste and he didn't just kiss my lips, he kissed my neck, he kissed my cheeks, and my heart raced so fast I felt as though you could hear it.

He tasted different. He didn't taste like anger and blood and saliva; this time he tasted like Baz. Like a boy. Like how he smells normally but as taste. And better. Like a normal boy with his cologne on his neck and sweat and grass and it was just beautiful and fast and slow and one of the best twenty minutes (twenty minutes? I have no idea) of my life.

Better than anything I'd ever done with Agatha. (Does that make me gay?)


	5. Chapter 5

Baz

When I was finished with Simon (I don't think I ever will be) I pulled away and took his face in my hands, and looked into his eyes. His expression told me so much.

Disappointment that I'd pulled away, angry that he hadn't had an explanation from me, delight, joy, devastation. He looked very out of breath. I tried to say something, but the words had dissolved.

I pushed him gently out the door and closed it, shutting myself alone in the darkness. And then I sunk to my knees and silently sobbed. Snow stood outside, too. I don't know what he was doing, whether he felt the same; confused, overwhelmed, broken. Soon his shadow shifted under the door and I listened to his footsteps as he walked away.

Tears drip into the sink as I brush my teeth. It's only been a few hours, but every time I think about it, tears spring to my eyes.

I'm thinking about this too hard. I think about everything too hard. It's one of my worst qualities. I think that if I never overthought my crush on Snow, I'd have never fallen in love with him. I would have forgotten about him and gone back to hating him. And I would never be in this mess. Or maybe I was always going to love him, and I'm just overthinking it.

Every time I remember what happened in that cupboard, I overthink it. I get sad because he doesn't like me. I get hopeful because maybe he does like me. I get disappointed because he didn't say anything to me, didn't explain anything. I get a happy, I'm-on-top-of-the-world feeling. I get angry. I get angry more than anything. I get so furiously livid. I've thrown a few things. I broke Snow's stupid alarm clock that wakes me up every morning. I get angry because why the hell did Snow kiss me when he knows that he's cheating on Agatha? And he knows that she'll find out? Because they're together. She's his girlfriend. And he's her boyfriend. And they've been together since forever ago, and they'll be together for a long time. They'll probably get married. Because she's perfect for him. And he's perfect for her. A beautiful golden princess; funny, quiet, kind. Just about smart enough to get by. But beautiful. So so beautiful. The most beautiful girl in the school. She's perfect for him. And I know it. I've always known it.

You'll never get a chance with him, I tell myself. That's been the thought in my head, spinning around, shouting in my head, whispering in my ear, for years. Never, it says, you'll never have a chance with him. He's Agatha's. Always has been, always will be. And so I've accepted it. I've set the idea firmly in my mind. I thought I was finished crying, finished pining over him. I was done. I was over it.

But in that moment when he was yelling at me, I lost it again. I felt all the emotions that I'd locked away since fifth year come flooding back to me. I physically felt my heart breaking.

In that moment when he said he hated me, I felt something. I felt something that said oh sod it just kiss him. And at the same time, I felt something in his voice that said he didn't mean it. He doesn't hate you.

I spit out my toothpaste. I wish I knew what Snow was thinking.


	6. Chapter 6

Penelope

I don't know what Simon was thinking. I don't know what he is thinking.

I knew something was wrong from the start. He was acting so weirdly, blushing at random moments, staring at something in the distance. Not listening when I was speaking to him (although that wasn't really unusual).

"Simon." I say, "That is the stupidest question I have ever heard."

He stares at me from across the table, mid-chew. It's the evening after the so-called Cupboard Kiss (which, from what I've heard, sounded more like a make-out session than a kiss) and Simon looks like he's trying to forget about it, by filling up on as many Yorkshire Puddings as humanly possible.

"So," I continue, my voice being slightly diminished by the rest of the chatter that fills up the dining hall. "you've just told me that you were yelling at your roommate, and then he kissed you, and then you yelled at him again, but then you kissed him, and then," I pause, taking a sip of water, "he dragged you into a broom cupboard and made out with you. And… you let him? And… after the first kiss, you broke up with your girlfriend?"

"She broke up with me…" He protests, but I ignore him.

"And you felt good about yourself, after you broke up with her? And when he kissed you, you liked it? And you kissed him again, because you liked it? And you made out with him for half an hour because you liked it? And! In all of these kisses, you were never the first to pull away. It was always him." I say the words clearly so he understands how ridiculous he's being.

I look at him over the rim of my glasses, eyebrow raised. "And yet, Simon. You're asking me…" I pause, trying not to laugh, "whether you're gay?" I look at him, exhausted at his stupidity.

"I know! I know." He says. "But seriously, Pen, you're over-exaggerating."

"I'm over exaggerating? Really?" I laugh. "No. I'm not. I just repeated everything you just told me, Simon. For Merlin's sake. You're gay. You. Are. Gay."

"I know but –"

"But what? There's nothing to question. You liked it, Simon. You're gay."

"Penny, please. I don't even know if Baz likes me. Or if I actually like him, or if I just liked kissing him."

"If you like kissing someone then you like them! That's basically the definition of liking someone!" I frantically wave my arms, trying desperately to make him realise how utterly naïve he's being. "Stop doubting yourself, Simon. Stop doubting Baz. What was it that he said? Before you made out?"

He sighs, repeating the words he told me before. "I don't know what's up with you, Snow… I like it, though. I like it."

"See?" I say. "He likes it when your gay towards him."

"Gay towards him? I'm not being gay towards him…"

"You kissed him. You're a boy, he's a boy. You were being gay towards him, Simon. Plus." I add, and Simon puts his head in his hands, sighing. "Plus, the way you said that, the way you said what Baz said to you, showed that you liked it. You said it like it was something you're secretly loving and that you secretly love that he said that to you, which you totally are! It's so obvious, Simon. So so so obvious."

"Yes, but –"

"And plus!" I interrupt. I can see that Simon is completely regretting this now. "How come he's hated you for this long and then suddenly gone and kissed you? Maybe… maybe he's secretly in love with you! That would explain so much…"

I think about all the times I've caught Baz staring at Simon, all the times I've listened to Baz obsessing over him behind his back. All the times that Baz has walked through those dining hall doors, and the first thing he looks at is Simon, with a sneer on his face.

"That's ridiculous, Penny."

"But what if he does! You don't know what he's thinking, Simon."

"No, I don't." He says. "I wish I did, though."

"And…" I continue, more arguments springing to mind. "you hate him back! Don't you? I know you've been, like, obsessed with him for so many years, and you've always thought he was plotting against you or something. Wait… have you been secretly in love with him all these years?"

"No!" He answers me hurriedly, blushing red. "No, I haven't. I've never even considered him in… in that way."

"Of course you haven't. You've realised your true sexuality! Now you can –"

"Penny!" He snaps. "Can we please stop talking about this?"

I roll my eyes, taking another bite of chicken. "Fine." I look up at him, swirling his gravy around his plate. And I smile, knowing that he knows he's gay. Because he is; he just doesn't want to accept it. I smile even wider when he looks up at me, confused. Simon and Baz, I think. Who could have ever guessed.


End file.
